


The Power of Words

by Gidgit2u



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ancient Rituals, Angst, Blood Magic, Dark!Harry, Dark!Luna, Deaths and Torture, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gidgit2u/pseuds/Gidgit2u
Summary: Luna Lovegood’s life shattered the day her mother passed, drenching her soul in darkness. When she discovers the diary and it’s influence on the youngest Weasley, she will do whatever necessary to see Tom Riddle succeed in his return, and to ensure she’s beside him—as an equal—when he ascends to power.





	1. Intrigue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I had this plot bunny and it wouldn't leave me alone until I let it out. I don't have an update schedule, but promise I never abandon a story, ever. The words flow when they flow. It's going to be a dark one, with mature themes and not so nice behaviors, especially from those we've grown to love as the embodiment of light and fluffy. 
> 
> Legal: I own nothing except the plot, and appreciate the sandbox JK Rowling created and has let us all play in.

* * *

She hated her classmates, the whole effing lot of them.

It wasn't a minor annoyance, or even a simmering anger that she felt toward those in her year, regardless of their house.

No, it was hatred, of the purest kind and of the deepest shade — like molasses melting in the sun it saturated her blood, a part of her with every pulsing heartbeat.

She'd grown up amongst the Pureblood elite, not an equal or sacred like most of their peerage, but accepted in kind due to Pandora.

Due to the Avery blood that ran through her veins, and therefore her daughters.

But, after her mother…

Well, there was no reason for the upper crust to suffer the oddity and unsuitability that was her father any longer.

And so, they were cast aside, held aloft with polite distain.

Never outright rejection. No, that was not the way of things.

Rather, the subtle kind of dismissal that permeates the psyche and erects barriers impervious to any physical weapon or means of destruction. 

They became social poison, and her dad became more entrenched in his eccentricities as the sands of time sprinkled downward.

She hadn't noticed their withdrawal. Not at first.

It had taken over a year for her to realize that in the cloak of grief she'd wrapped herself in, she'd lost all contacts with those she'd previously associated.

The owls had stopped days, weeks even, after her mother perished.

The teas, the gossip, the indulgent interest… everything became arid where once there was vitality.

When social events dictated their presence, she saw the glances. Heard the whispers. Saw the chasm of proximity widen.

Felt them pierce her, felt her soul bleed with every cruel, disinterested, false interaction.

And when she did, naive confusion turned to anger turned to hate.

And hate took root in the dark fertility of her soul.

She felt her sprouting, fledgling hate lick the wounds inflicted by their forked tongues and barbed words and seal them shut.

Felt the heat of her anger and loss and hatred infuse down into her marrow, forging a skeleton stronger than one cored with goblin-wrought adamantium, more resilient and flexible than elven-mined vibranium.

She'd risen, invisible to all but herself, from the ashes of her peers disregard and her mother's death and her fathers ignorance and passive neglect; a Phoenix reborn in shadows rather than in the light of the flame.

Her father, bless his heart, was never an attentive parent and after her mother's death, went off the rails entirely.

If it wasn't for Mrs Weasley—and to an extent, Ginny—Luna wondered if she'd even have survived past the age of ten.

Or she'd have allowed herself to implode, to self destruct.

She'd never have imagined that she'd be grateful to a blood traitor, but knew the woman's kindness was the only tether restraining what she knew ran alongside the blood in her veins, bursting to be let free.

Neither her nor her daughter knew how tightly Luna pruned back that which grew wild within, as Pandora had always provided the shield of perceived pureness of heart and deed.

Upon her death, Luna had picked up the mantle and forged her own shield, continuing the facade.

And now, as she walked the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, a first year Slytherin-by-blood, wearing robes trimmed with Blue and Bronze and housed in a nest of stone, she burned.

Let them all call her Looney.

It didn't matter.

She hid in plain sight, had for years; her chosen mask that of the dotty almost-orphan.

Chose to make her voice ethereal, her eyes wider than presumed normal and to use a spell to reduce the need to blink.

It was all very off putting and pedantic, yet the spell-work of her mother's creation so rudimentary that she was almost insulted on her classmates and their family's behalf that they believed their eyes and assumptions so readily.

Let them look and assume, she mused, resting for a moment against a battlement between the arithmancy tower and the serpentine corridor, overlooking the greenhouses.

Assumptions were the downfall of the ignorant, or so mother had always said.

Her stomach fluttered.

She knew something they didn't, something they couldn't even begin to imagine, had been put into motion.

Something that made her blood sing in anticipation. Anticipation for a day where her mask could fall and they'd all be dust at her feet.

Her lips twitched into a small smile as she remembered what she'd been shown in the library earlier.

As comprehension had dawned as she'd sat across from a flush faced Ginny, listening to her natter away, the red heads mouth still peppered with ink from where she'd bitten the end of her quill in thought.

She'd looked like a spotted owl, all blotchy skin and uneven hair and ears too small for her head.

The closest thing to a friend Luna had.

Ginny hadn't even realized her predicament until she'd wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and spread the ink.

“Oh blast it!” Ginny’d cried, and Luna had silently handed her a folded tissue from her school sac; the name Ginny sewn along the hem.

The tissues were an experiment she'd created the previous summer, a mix of her fathers printing press parchment added to some potions she'd discovered in her mother's closet, simmered together in a silver cauldron found in the top most attic of her house.

Who knew a soothing potion, typically used for ones nerves, would be effective in turning reprintable parchment into the softest and endurable handkerchief imaginable. 

With the added tea tree oil she'd thought to include before sealing her cauldron and setting it to simmer, came the bonus of it never soiling or needing to be laundered.

She'd made one for herself, and one for Ginny that she carried around with her for whenever they got together. 

She’d never understood how Ginny, continued to be so emotive. So… messy—physically and emotionally.Maybe it was all the coddling, from her brothers and parents alike.

“Thanks Luna,” she'd smiled and blushed, and it had taken all Luna could do not to roll her eyes at her friend.

“When will you learn not to bite the nibs! You'd think after the twins prank this summer you'd have stopped!”

Ginny had sighed.

“I forget when I'm… when I get too caught up in my thoughts.” She'd then laid down the quill and leaned forward.

“Want to know a secret?”

Luna has glanced around at the library and was relieved to see her usual tormentors were absent.No one was close enough to hear Ginny—the girl had done her own visual appraisal before speaking—but Luna always stayed vigilant of her surroundings.

“Of course.” She had said, mirroring her friend in learning forward.

“I found this… this book. A blank journal, mixed within my school books. I was originally going to owl mum and ask about it when I realized but… I'd already written my name inside.”

“So?” Luna had asked. She wondered where he book had come from, as it was unlikely Mrs. Weasley has purchased it. They weren't exactly bleeding galleons, and anything superfluous to the reading list wasn't a likely addition to their cart.

“When I wrote my name… it all disappeared.” Ginny had whispered.

Luna had felt a stir in the pit of her stomach. A fluttering of something she couldn't identify, though it was pleasurable rather than off putting.

“Disappeared like, the whole word gone? Sank into the page?” Ginny had nodded. “What happened once it disappeared?” Luna had kept her tone even, her face neutrally curious.

Inside her blood had hummed in anticipation.

“Words appeared. A greeting. A name.” Luna had sucked in a breath and Ginny had rushed on. “And… well, I know dad would wack me upside the head for doing so and Bill would curse me sideways, but I wrote back and oh, it's been so wonderful having him to talk to, he is just so sweet and he actually listens to me Luna! I mean, really listens. And doesn't treat me like a child!”

Ginny had ended with her arms crossing and lip pouting like the child she said she wasn't and Luna had felt a memory pop forward to rest in the forefront of her brain.

Of a story her mother had relayed, about a boy with the ability to charm books to do his bidding. The story about a handsome boy, with abilities and skill that rumored to rival Dumbledore.

Tales told to Pandora by her uncle before his untimely death, an uncle who'd been schoolmates with the boy.

Tales of power.

Tales Luna had cut her teeth on at bedtime.

Another memory had surfaced, of a fight in a bookstore over the summer, of a flash of platinum hair and haughty glare and tumbled books.

“What was the name?” Luna had asked, eyes bright with intrigue.

Her fingers had traced the name on her knee, eliciting goosebumps of anticipation as Ginny had whispered reverently,

“Tom Riddle.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Tom_ Riddle.

Tom _Riddle_.

' _How was this… I need to think…"_

Luna had been thankful Ginny didn't seem to realize with whom she blathered all her prepubescent moaning to, that the generic name didn't ring any bells.

"That sounds like one heck of a charm." Luna had said, clapping cheerfully. "How fun!"

Ginny had blushed.

"Well…actually, I'm not sure it _is_ a charm Luna… that's why I want to keep it a secret. Why it needs to stay secret."

Luna had stilled. She hadn't anticipated Ginny actually confiding this to her.

' _Tread lightly_ ,' she'd thought before saying, "what do you mean Ginny? What else could it be?"

Ginny had shifted, warring unease and anticipation apparent in every minute movement. "It's like… it's like, the diary is sentient. He _knows_ things, and the way he talks—week, writes… it's almost as if…"

"He's trapped in the pages?" Luna had asked, and Ginny had nodded.

"Exactly! Oh I knew you'd understand. I feel… I need to help him, Luna, as he's helping me."

Luna had regarded her friend, who'd been looking at her with beseeching eyes begging for understanding; ideas and questions slithering through her brain at nimbus speed.

"But Ginny, how can you possibly help someone trapped in a book?"

Ginny had frowned. "I'm not sure. It's just, just a feeling I have. The other day he said…" she had trailed off before shaking her head, her eyes shuttering slightly.

"It's ok, Ginny, you don't have to tell me," Luna had said, and had known before she'd even finished speaking that she'd hooked her friend with her disinterest.

Ginny had burst out, "he said the more I talk, the more I confide, the more human he feels. At first I thought, like you, it was a spell… but the more we write to each other, the more he's become this trapped, lost, boy not merely a shallow wisp of Magic. He mentioned he's not more than a few years older than me, and that if I ever free him…" she had blushed, "well, just, he remembers what it's like to be—" her voice had trailed off, "—amongst the living. It's so sad Luna."

' _Oh you stupid, naive little twit._ ' Luna had thought.

Being a blood traitor was one thing.

She could tolerate that, especially in Ginny's case.

But to not have even a cursory knowledge of soul magics, blood rituals, even of the most benign aspect of the old practices before they became denounced and classified as either dark or light…

To not even have an inkling that the book before her was anything but sad or benign…

To Luna, that was the ultimate snub to their magical heritage.

To their fucking birthright.

Luna had felt the flames of frustration and disgust begin to lick across her spine. She'd straightened in her chair and decided upon her game plan, putting it into motion.

Queen's knight to d4.

She'd be playing to win, playing for keeps.

And Ginny would never have a fucking clue.

"What's it like? Talking, writing to him?" She'd asked, tilting her head and letting her eyes project a widened innocence.

She'd thought her tone neutral but Ginny had eyed her in suspicion.

"Why? Don't get any ideas! This diary is mine!"

"Of course it is, silly. Oops, I think there's some nargles flying around here." Luna has said sweetly, swatting around the air randomly. "I'm excited is all. Can't believe you have all the luck. Finding such an interesting treasure! I wonder how it just came to fall into your lap?"

' _Compulsion charms, definitely, and some charm or spell to arouse suspicion and promote ownership.'_ Luna had mused as she'd watched Ginny's shoulders relax as she'd spoken. ' _I'll need to be careful in my approach. At least at first…'_

Ginny had gone on about how thankful she was that their conversations were private, explaining how the ink vanished into the page and that his reply lasted until she wrote a new line—unless she closed the book.

Then even that disappeared until she wrote again.

She'd gushed about his patience and how helpful he was with her frustrations of family dynamics, on her stress over schoolwork, and on her enduring—and frightfully annoying—crush on one Harry Potter; a second year Luna hadn't yet met but had seen here and there.

Of course, she'd grown up knowing the legend of the boy, though legends are usually more smoke than mirror in her experience.

He'd been in the bookstore the day she was sure the journal—diary?—had made its way into Ginny's possession.

She'd never before set eyes on the fabled boy-who-lived before that day, and Luna wasn't all that impressed with what she'd seen.

Anyone who allowed themselves to be branded with—and still apparently encourage—a stupid moniker such as that was deserving of scorn, not…

Not the hero worship Ginny heaped upon the image of him she'd erected in her head.

The two had finished their homework and retreated to their respective common rooms; Luna surreptitiously noticing the pocket in which the nondescript diary was slipped.

…—-o(0)o-—-…

If only her friend knew, that the boy she wrote to daily was so much more worthy of her awe and respect than she bestowed upon Potter.

Luna sank down now against the battlement, her chosen spot for hiding herself from prying eyes and the northern winds.

She hadn't yet learned the disillusionment charm, so this was the closest she could get to invisibility.

It was where she sought her daily solace, where she could exist with just her thoughts, without need of her exhausting mask of aloof obscurity.

Donning her mother's harvesting gloves, she delicately pulled thistle out of her sac to twine together while letting her mind drift to plot and ponder.

' _How absolutely innocent Ginny looked when she'd crowed about her new secret quill-pal_.' She thought, scoffing. ' _How utterly besotted with the idea of having someone completely her own to talk to_.'

A secret someone named Tom Riddle.

She didn't begrudge her friend her desire for an untraceable personal confidante, but was rather put out that Ginny alone had unfettered access to Tom Riddle's genius.

She knew she had to get her hands on it.

Somehow, someway.

She'd also have to ensure Ginny remained the sole owner of the diary, and Luna's usage one of a sporadic guest.

She knew that was vitally important, and something to be kept utterly secret.

Luna knew things others didn't.

She knew—her mother had always whispered to her—that the Dark Lord hadn't perished the night he'd gone to Godric's Hollow.

That knowledge was something softly spoken of between the two of them in the dead of night, under the twinkling stars as her mother tucked her into bed.

It was from her mother's lips to Luna's ears alone.

Her father was oblivious to the master her mother had served, blind to the spells Pandora dabbled with and created for a Lord missing in action but whispered to return.

No one outside of Voldemort himself knew of Pandora's involvement amongst his ranks, but all had been impacted in some fashion.

Her spells had wrecked havoc amongst those fighting against the Dark Lord—and even between themselves when someone stepped out of line—and to this day the origins of those creations remained a mystery.

From both sides.

How Pandora had become such a boon to his inner circle, had been allowed such close and anonymous proximity, Luna had never dared ask.

It was a secret Pandora had taken to the veil, and one Luna was determined to uncover.

She knew her mother's uncle had raised her after she was mysteriously orphaned, and was one of the Dark Lords trusted advisors for decades.

She knew there'd been an irrevocable rift between her mother and uncle before her own birth, months after the Dark Lord had fallen and around the time her mother had secretly married and taken the Lovegood surname.

Casting aside the protections of the Avery name and all it entailed.

And damning her unborn child with a father not her sire.

Another secret, Luna knew, which festered below her skin, itching to be lanced and purged.

"What are you doing up here Loony?" A taut, reedy voice trilled.

Sally Lithelo, a fourth year Ravenclaw.

One of Luna's most ardent antagonists.

Giggles followed.

' _Ah, Joelle's here too. Perfect._ _Fucking blasted twats._ ' Luna thought, clenching her teeth as she slipped her 'Loony' affectation on as seamlessly as one did glasses or a pair of trainers.

"Just enjoying the view." Luna singsonged mildly, subtly shifting her wreath of weeds toward the opening of her bag. "There's usually a lack of chattering birds this high up."

Eyes narrow at her words.

"Ooooh, what do we have here?" Joelle Branche, Sally's best mate, asked with saccharine politeness.

Joelle's father worked for the ministry, some position close to Fudge, and she liked to flaunt her perceived power-by-proxy in the common room.

' _Ministry wench_.' Luna seethed behind a face of benign boredom. ' _As if anyone in the ministry has a clue what real power is. They'd wet their pants to experience it.'_

Joelle stepped up beside Sally, brandishing her wand.

"Accio Luna's…sticks," she said, and the wreath flew out of Luna's grip and into the girls outstretched hand.

"Ouch!" Joelle cried, dropping the circle of thistles and sticking her bleeding finger in her mouth.

"I would have handed it to you Joelle, the thistle is delicately tricky to touch," Luna said sweetly, swinging her sac up and onto her shoulder.

She peered owlishly at the two older eagles before her before saying lightly, "You may want to see Madam Pomfrey about your finger. The vermillion thistle is young and the milk hasn't had a chance to alkalize yet. You may begin to notice…"

Luna broke off as Joelle pulled her finger from her mouth and screamed.

"…that the wound will begin turning green and oozing sulfuric pus. It'll become permanent…without prompt treatment."

"Watch your back Loony," Sally spat, her Ravenclaw badge flashing in the late afternoon sun. "Come on Elle, lets head to the infirmary."

Luna watched the two depart, anger simmering along her flesh at losing yet another place of solace.

She couldn't wait to get her hands on that diary.

' _Oh the things we'll do,_ ' Luna thought as she headed back inside and down toward the greenhouses and the courtyard beyond.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all so much for the love and interest shown this story. I am so excited to be writing this and can't wait to hear your reaction to this new chapter and its goodies. ~G
> 
> Legal: i just play in the sandbox and make no money from this story.


	3. Chapter 3

Luna thought long and hard about how she'd get her hands on the diary; without Ginny the wiser.

Classes were out.

Ravenclaws and Gryffindors weren't paired for any save for electives beginning in their third year.

As were meals, as no one crossed the invisible lines delineating each house’s inhabitants remain at their own tables.

It would have to be evenings then, after classes, when the two typically met up to work in the library.

‘ _I'm sure I only need write in it once, and hopefully Tom will tell me all I need to know and do to continue_.” She thought, writing down the lesson notes Professor Lockheart had written on the board.

Thankfully the class passed quickly—Lockheart really was a dreadful teacher— and supper was upon them.

“Careful Loony,” a hard shove caught against her shoulder, sending her sprawling on the floor. “Oops, didn't see you there.”

Joelle and Sally’s giggles faded as they continued down the corridor, away from where Luna lay against the cold stone; her belongings scattered.

‘ _Fucking kelpies_ ,’ Luna seethed, noticing a tear in her favorite pair of tights.They weren't regulation but so far she'd flown under the radar wearing them under her school robes.

‘ _Another charm to learn,’_ she mused, fingering the torn edges of the silk.

There was a sort of beauty to be found in the thin lines of blood against the creamy skin of her knee where the stone had scraped.The thin lines were framed by the irregular jagged edges of silk, creating a striking contrast.

Lost in thought as she smeared the blood from the scrape, white skin becoming intriguingly pink, she didn't hear the other’s approach until they spoke.

“Are you alright? Here, let me help you.”

Luna looked up, and to her surprise found her gaze locked with those of deepest emerald.

“I'm Harry.” The boy spoke as he crouched down and extended his hand to assist her up.

Luna had to wonder at how daft he thought she was.

“I know who you are.” She said, raising herself off the floor without aid of his hand and beginning to gather her parchments and quills.She watched as resigned disgust passed over his features.

“Of course you do,” he muttered, but still began picking up the books that were near his leg before holding them out to here.

“That bothers you?” Luna cocked her head, intrigued by the notion.

She'd never given thought to whether or not his notoriety would be desired. She'd just assumed it was, based on that he never appeared to act otherwise.

“Sure,” he rubbed the back of his neck, his hair looking as if he'd lost a duel with a manticore. “I'd rather meet someone and have their opinions of me form based on me being me, rather than have my… well, what I did as an infant be all anyone sees, knows and celebrates.”

He grimaced then continued quietly, almost to himself, “my first really honest interaction in the Wizarding World was with Malfoy of all people.”

‘Malfoy!’ The name was acidic to her thoughts. They'd been one of the first families to begin to subtly disassociate with her and her father, and her fingers itched for vengeance every time she saw a flash of platinum hair in the hall or corridors.

Luna cocked her head towards the thin boy in front of her, indicating interest without pressure to continue.

She knew better than most that the key to information was to keep silent.

Silence prompted discomfort and discomfort prompted discussion, resulting in the oversharing of that which would typically not spill over tongues and lips freely.

“We met while purchasing robes, my first visit to Diagon Alley before school started.He’d had no clue who I was. I was just… another boy, off to school for the first time.It was refreshing as before that people kept shaking my hand and looking at me like I was their savior and all I wanted to do was enjoy being away from my relatives. It was bloody overwhelming and annoying to be honest.”

It was the most she'd ever heard in one sitting from anyone save Ginny since the start of term. 

She'd never have expected the words or feelings pouring out from the boy in front of her. 

The bitterness that saturated every syllable tugged loose something buried deep inside her, something that had been all wrapped up since her mother's passing.

Pity. 

Hope.

Kindred spirit.

‘ _Could I have been wrong?’_ Luna thought. ‘ _Could he be just as misunderstood and repressed as I am?_ ’

“I’m Luna,” she said decisively. “Luna Lovegood.Thank you for helping me.” She waved her hand absently, indicating the ground which was now devoid of her personal property.“Though I'm so sorry… may I ask what your name was again?”

She adopted her Loony mask of airy innocence and stuck out her hand for him to shake as she waited.

Harry appeared to have been hit by a bludger.

He stared at her incredulously, then at her hand, then back at her face before what could have passed as a smile carved itself slowly upon his lips, shattering the stone facadeof resignation his features had settled into.

“Harry Potter, nice to meet you.” Harry said, sliding his hand into hers to shake.

“It really must be irksome to be so famous for something you can't remember.”

“You have no bloody idea.” Harry said, sighing.

A beat of comfortable silence passed.

“So,” Luna motioned toward his tie. “How do you find your house?”

“It's alright,” Harry shrugged, “I mean, it's not stinkin Slytherin.”

Luna felt her veins freeze and her smile became a tad too tight around the edges. 

Harry didn't seem to notice.

“I think I'd find it a bit… loud to be honest.” She said, her words crisp and Harry looked at her quizzically.

She smirked, then whispered, “though, there are the rumors…”

“What rumors?” Harry asked.

“Why, that your common room has an enchanted Lion which assists you with homework. Is this true?”

Harry threw back his head and laughed, a true, from-the-belly laugh.

His eyes were twinkling when they met with hers once more.

“The only lion that assists us with homework is Hermione, and she's definitely not enchanted. She's another second year, like me, and one of my friends.”

Luna had heard all about Hermione.

Muggleborn upstart that had an almost incessant need to prove her existence by beating everyone over the head with her knowledge.

She'd heard many a Ravenclaw bitch and moan about the second year in their common room, as despite the unfortunate nature of her birth, she did appear to be brilliant.

All the more pitiful.

Brilliance should be confidently owned, not beseechingly thrown about.

Luna decided to test the waters.

“Well, all rumors can't be true, surely.” She said, cocking her head and letting her eyes bulge slightly.

If he was put off by her slight dotty persona, he didn't act it.

If anything, he appeared more at ease than before.

“I've noticed you before.” He said bluntly. “You speak a lot with Ginny Weasley—she's my friend Ron’s little sister—but never anyone of your house. I've noticed you sit alone, even when surrounded.”

He hoisted himself up and onto the window ledge. They'd retrieved all her belongings and they were safely stored once more in her satchel. 

Instead of proceeding to dinner and to his friends, Harry appeared content toremain at her side in the corridor, chatting.

Luna leaned against the castle wall beside the window, appraising Harry before letting her facade fall.

He blinked at the apparent difference her unmasking revealed.

“My housemates have no time or need for little Loony Lovegood.” She breathed out. As confusion etched itself upon his furrowing brow, she continued, “my brilliant nickname, bestowed to me by those that used to be of my acquaintance. Lovely, isn't it?”

Luna smirked, and let her eyes glow with the fire that raged inside her. 

“‘Tis a pity they didn't get to truly know me before branding me a loon. Or rather, it seems they forgot that of which they knew. Either way, t’will be their mistake.” She shrugged.

Harry straightened, rather like a cat after a meal of a mouse, or a snake in the midday sun. The movement was sudden but had an air of fluid awareness that intrigued her.

Luna adored mysteries.

He blinked at her from behind hishis wireframe glasses—’hideous style, totally wrong for his bone structure, honestly!’ Luna thought— and wiped his hands upon his trouser legs.

“You aren't as you seem.” He stated after the silence between them had stretched more than was typically comfortable.

“Neither, it appears, are you, Harry,” Luna replied. She gazed at him for a moment then smiled brightly.

“If you're ever in need of a chat where you don't need to be the-boy-who-lived… or someone's token mate…well…”

She let her voice trail off, her eyes mist and widen slightly and gave him a look that had him chuckling darkly.

“I'll find you,” Harry said, and with that the two parted company.


End file.
